The Last Praetorian (27 page)

“It shall be done Dread Lord,” exclaimed the drooling dragon
. He wormed his immense bulk into the hole.

Naugrathur sheathed his sword
painfully. Taking out a flask of ruby liquid he consumed it. The bleeding stopped. The Dread Lord shook his gauntlet clean, muttering in frustration, “So doughty a man—a man—imagine a mortal man piecing my arrogant hide! It serves me right!”

The
Destructor chuckled to himself despite the ache in his breast. Tarion’s wound was delivered right next to Thor’s. “Cunning man!” Yet a sudden cloud of doubt settled over his heavy brow. “I have driven Karkedon to his limits with little rest. Drakes are vulnerable when weary; I wonder if it was wise to allow him to pursue Tarion. Certainly that man will not fear him! It is not beyond the realm of possibility that the slayer of Morax the Mountain King might add another royal to his resume at my expense!”

Naugrathur was about to recall Karkedon a
hawk attracted his attention. It dove at him, but just before it landed, the hawk changed into the familiar form of the Trickster, his Duke of Pandemonium.

“Loki! What is it?” he
started, seeing panic in his minion’s eyes.

“Belioch!” exclaimed the
Devil-God. “My Dread Lord, your treacherous servant Duke Belioch betrays you. Even now, he is setting up court in your tower and on your throne!”

Instantly the Destructor snapped his armored fingers. A portal appeared, ringed with flame. Yet when he tried to step through it even the Dread Lord could not break the plane. “Belioch has blocked all gates to Durnen-Gul!” t
he Destructor fumed. He strode like a thunderstorm to the cave. “Karkedon, out with you—now!”

The hill rumbled as Karkedon backed his way out of the lair. “Blast it Dread Lord, what is it. I almost had him in my jaws!”
the dragon assured him, though his snout was bloodied in several places.

The Destructor didn’t have time for debate. He leapt into the saddle and pulled back on the reins. Digging his spurs into the dragon’s already tattered flanks, he cried, “Fly Karkedon! Make haste to Durnen-Gul! Fly to your heart’s bursting and along the way think of your grandest reward! I will spare nothing! Fly Karkedon!”

“Promise me my freedom!” Karkedon insisted.

“After we get to Durnen-Gul that freedom is yours! Now fly Karkedon, fly!”

With a mighty heave of his wings, the dragon took to the airs leaving a swirling cloud of snow behind.

CHAPTER 24:
  Insurrection

Navernya groaned as Belioch’s minions surrounded the last of her personal guard and smashed them into the stone floor of the Destructor’s tower. A pool of glowing blue blood spread sluggishly over the pavers, mixing with the already hideous concoction of demon blood, ice, demon corpses and demon parts. Belioch sloshed through the mess, grinning wickedly at Navernya.

She backed away until one of the enormous columns holding up the dome of the tower stopped her. Belioch laughed and held forth his pudgy hands. Iron chains came forth and wrapped Navernya to the column.

“Sweet Navernya, now that is over, let’s chat shall we?” Belioch, however, wasn’t interested in idle banter; he got straight to the point. Walking heavily to the anthracite throne, he said, “There’s something about his throne that feeds him power. What is it?”

“Do you actually think the he would be fool enough to tell me?” Navernya said truthfully. Belioch and his minions caught her by surprise. She expended all of her spells and after gating in her personal guard, she had no more cards to play. She was beaten. Yet she would not align with Belioch. She had pride and honor and this grotesque excuse for a Devil would get no satisfaction from her—much less alliance. She told him so and he lashed her with an iron chain encrusted with needle thin spikes. She took the pain of the lash without complaint.

“Take that for your impudence!” he told her, lashing her again across the face. He leaned so close that his breath made her recoil. “I don’t understand this defiance in you, Navernya. Is it loyalty to him, or could it perhaps be something more?” He laughed and licked the blood off her face with disgusting zeal. Navernya cringed, but took some satisfaction that his tongue actually stuck to her frozen flesh. Belioch tore away from her with a bellow of pain. He left an inch long piece of his tongue sticking onto her cheek.

“Blasted harlot!” he cursed and he plopped down into the throne. Belioch’s fat hands rested on his huge paunch. He eyed her with an expression of hatred and said, “I’ll figure this out, but while I do I’ll enjoy melting you, my little Ice Queen!” At the snap of his bloated fingers, Belioch’s servants dumped coal and brimstone around her feet. Belioch breathed and flames enveloped Navernya. “Now, start screaming please, I always do my best thinking with screaming going on all around me!”

Navernya endured the flames as she watched Belioch search the throne. After several hours, he found the apparent source of Naugrathur’s strength, four round stones hidden in a secret niche beneath the seat. Each was a different crystal: sapphire, ruby, diamond and emerald. Navernya’s heart fell, but despite his discovery, Belioch didn’t seem to gain anything from the stones. He closed the compartment and tried spell after spell to activate them but with no apparent success. Then he tried different things such as Naugrathur’s cloak, his crown, anything that might get the stones to give him power. Nothing apparently worked.

Belioch’s growing frustration made it easier for Navernya to endure the flames, but her strength waned as day passed into night.

As dawn approached, Navernya felt a flash of pain. Her icy flesh melted and became subject to the heat of the flames. She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes. She smelled the smoldering of her hair and the roasting of her own flesh over the sulfur fumes. A scream welled up in her.

A merciful blast of frigid air encompassed her and the heat dissipated. “Belioch and his games!” she thought to herself. Yet as she opened her eyes, she saw the Devil’s face cast a look of astonished fury toward something behind her. She followed his eyes and saw the hulking figure of Naugrathur standing at the balcony with sword unsheathed.

“Good day, Belioch, late Duke of Ferrus. I see you are keeping my throne warm!” he said in a low rumbling growl.

Belioch’s expression changed to one of fury and his fat brows contracted until they almost covered his tiny pig-like eyes.

“You are in my dominion now!” Belioch told the Destructor. “I sit on this throne! You are now my servant or you are naught! Make your choice!”

“I have banished choice from this world!” Naugrathur said evenly, approaching Belioch like a storm.

Belioch thrust out a hand and a giant claw of iron reached for the Destructor. Naugrathur thrust his sword into the palm and Belioch bellowed in pain, clutching his own hand. Naugrathur twisted the sword and then grappled the hand under one arm. One after another, he took the giant fingers and broke them back upon themselves. Belioch’s fingers snapped in similar fashion and he howled.

“Kill him!” Belioch roared and his minions set upon Naugrathur.

Navernya watched with glee as Naugrathur dispatched the demons with cool efficiency—almost as an afterthought. As he reaped his grim harvest he stepped ever closer to his throne. Belioch squirmed in the seat and Navernya said, “What’s the matter Belioch? It seems you cannot harness the power of the earth and with every second doom approaches!”

“Fie on you witch!” Belioch bellowed, desperately pounding the seat and muttering incantations. He straightened quite suddenly and said, “The power of the earth, that’s it!”

Belioch’s mouth opened as if to utter something momentous, but Navernya summoned all her remaining strength and cast the simplest of spells. It was child’s play, the freezing spell and the most basic of her arsenal, but weakened as she was from torment it was all she could muster.

“
Niveus Parle
!”

Belioch’s mouth froze solid. Distracted as he was, he failed to ward off Navernya’s slight attack. He stared dumbly at the Ice Queen and then at Naugrathur. The Destructor sensed his moment and leapt for the Devil.

One huge hand grasped Belioch by the nape of his blubbery neck and pulled him from the throne. He wasted no more time, but popped the Devil’s round head from his bloated body like a cork. He then butchered the Devil with his sword, chopping him up into smaller and smaller pieces. Last, he took the head of the Devil, gouged the still living eyes out and ripped out the tongue. Then he took the head to his balcony. In a voice like thunder he called, “Belioch’s treachery has ended!”

With a mighty heave, the Destructor tossed the head far into the mountains.

The Destructor turned to Navernya and there was unmistakable fury in his glowing eyes.

#

Tarion reached the main chamber of Gaurnothax’s cavern. To his horror, Hera Vora and her children were already there. “Get out of here! Go through the back passage. Gaurnothax must have a secret exit. I’ll hold here as long as I can and follow you.

There was a rumbling and growling from the main passage. Suddenly, like some terrible worm, Karkedon slithered into the cavern. The place was
tight for Karkedon, but his head and neck poked out at Tarion, smiling with evil glee.

“Ho there Praetorian, let’s stop this insane chase! Stand still and I’ll give you a comfortable ride in my belly; resist and I’ll digest you all the way to Durnen-Gul before I give you up! It’s your choice on which way you want to go, but go you will.”

“This man is not for you, Karkedon!” Hera Vora warned. She leapt back into the cavern, teeth bared and back arched. “Begone or I’ll ravage your pretty face!”

“Away woman,” Karkedon exclaimed. “Don’t interfere with my business!”

Hera Vora attacked, biting at Karkedon’s face. The huge drake bit back, shaking the hillside with his exertions. Tarion rushed his flank, seeking to come from behind Karkedon’s spike encrusted head and skewer him through the ear or eye. At the last moment, Karkedon saw him and ducked. The sword creased the dragon’s brow and Karkedon recoiled.

Instinctively
the dragon breathed, opening his maw filling the cavern with his fumes. The fireball might have immolated them, but Karkedon was weary already and had not the time to breathe properly. His flame was dim, almost transparent. Tarion felt the heat, but nothing more. He advanced on Karkedon, stabbing and slashing.

The dragon shook his head,
showering the cavern with black blood. Slowly he backed away, growling, “Being stubborn are we? This isn’t over yet, Tarion!” He suddenly struck like a cobra, snapping at the Praetorian; just missing Tarion’s head.

“
It’s not over, but now is as good a time to finish it as any! I’ll make the destructor walk home!” The Praetorian waded in, stabbing with sword and wristblade at the eyes and nostrils of the dragon. The dragon bit back, but he kept backing away. Then to Tarion’s amazement, Karkedon disappeared. It was as if some great force yanked him out of the cave.

The Praetorian
waited with sweat pouring down his face, but nothing happened. Then he heard a rush of wind followed by silence. The presence of the Destructor faded and Tarion knew that somehow Naugrathur was gone. He stood in confusion, shook his head and went back into the lair.

Tarion heard Hera Vora cry out. He ran back in to find the mother dragon looming over her babies. The two daughters lay quite still on the floor. Karkedon’s breath wasn’t potent enough to do Tarion or Hera Vora much harm, but it was too much for the babies. Only the little drake survived. Tarion couldn’t take it; he left the Mother to her grief, leaving the cavern to see what happened to the Destructor.

 Loki was standing outside the cave waiting for him.

“Hello, Tarion!” said the
Devil-God. He shook his head and nodded in the direction of the cavern. “She does carry on, doesn’t she?”

Tarion was on him in a flash. He pinned the God-devil against a tree and throttled him. “What’s your game this time, Loki? Wasn’t trying to kill me enough?”

“No, it wasn’t!” Loki wheezed. “Remember, I serve the Destructor now!”

“Then give me one good reason to keep you alive!”

“I can still help you!” Loki insisted.

“You’re still after my hide,” Tarion growled. “Your goal is to deliver me to the Destructor.”

“Yes and no,” Loki said and as Tarion squeezed harder, he explained. “For his part, yes, absolutely, I admit it. However, the situation is not as simple as it seems. Do you think the Destructor would consider you a threat if you weren’t?”

“I don’t follow, why would that matter to me? You’re after me, that’s all I need to know!” Tarion put the tip of his wrist-blade in Loki’s stomach and said, “All I have to do is cut out your heart and it will banish you from this plane until the end of the world. Isn’t that true?”

“Actually, you need to take the head as well,” Loki told him. “But that would be a travesty. Can you imagine Midgard without my wit and charm?”

“Actually, I can,” Tarion said tersely. He pressed the point through Loki’s tunic and drawing blood.

“Ouch! Listen, Tarion, whether you realize it or not you are a power in this game, therefore, I have a stake in you as well. I want to help you bring the Wanderer to Midgard. I want to at least see what he has to offer!” Loki’s expression was serious indeed.

“Fool,” Tarion growled, knowing Loki didn’t know the Wanderer was in Asgard.

“What’s that,” the Devil-God said. His eyes burrowed into Tarion’s mind. Tarion threw up his defenses, but too late. Loki’s smile grew like a maliciously spreading slick of oil across his sharp features. “So the Wanderer is in Asgard; he couldn’t come to Midgard, meaning he is too weak to face the Destructor!”

“That secret will die with you Loki!” Tarion tensed to shove the blade under Loki’s ribs.

“I don’t want the Destructor to know!” Loki yelped, pleading with Tarion, sincere fear in his eyes. Tarion paused, and Loki’s rapid-fire words filled the void. “I just told you I wanted an option from the Wanderer. I don’t want to live in his dominion any more than you, but it’s the only offer I have. Odin, father though he is, damned me. So has Naugrathur, literally, but better to be a Duke in Hell,”

“. . . Than a rat in Asgard,” Tarion finished for him. He released the Devil-God. “I will almost certainly regret this, Loki.” He walked away, purposefully turning his back on the Trickster. After walking away a few steps, he glanced back. Loki
was rubbing his throat. There was no malice in his eyes. “Why did you save me, Loki—the truth?”

Loki sighed and sat on a stone, seemingly weary with the ordeal. “I failed him. I couldn’t allow Naugrathur to win when his opinion of me was so minimal,” he admitted. “He’d have remade me as an immortal ferret or something similarly inconsequential.”

Tarion sighed and walked toward the keep, frustrated and disheartened. “I understand your position, Loki. I understand it better than I do my own.” He stopped, his brows knitting over hard green eyes. “I should still kill you—temporarily at least—if the Destructor knew where the Wanderer was he’d attack Asgard and that would be the end of it.”

Loki shook his head, and said, “He can’t, because he would have to go to Asgard himself. Even the Nine Hells together couldn’t overcome Thor. That’s one good thing that has come of this: the Destructor can’t leave his throne anymore—not personally at least.”

Tarion turned to Loki, “Why is that, what did you tell him to get him to leave?”

“He has to deal with a minor insurrection,” Loki smiled.

“Orchestrated by you?”

“Facilitated at most, regardless, he won’t be making any long trips anymore. Politics is a demanding business.”